


Maze of Memories

by speakwithsympathy



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Empaths and Telepaths, Insomnia, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, This fic is gonna get a bit dark sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakwithsympathy/pseuds/speakwithsympathy
Summary: The voices were everywhere. All he could hear were heartbroken sobs, hostile shouts, and pained screams. It was like hell in his mind, and he hated it. Hated it with a burning passion. He knew it was a dream, but that didn’t make the voices he was hearing, the emotions he was feeling, any less real.A young girl putting on a brave face while her classmates bullied her for the chubby cheeks she couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard she tried, a teenaged boy being beaten into the floor by his drunk father, an old woman grieving the loss of her husband of over fifty years. Every sentiment he picked up on from the past week, all demanding to be heard one last time before they faded into the recesses of his mind, never to be felt by him again.By the end of his dream, he was emotionally destroyed. The swarm of voices, once a tumultuous tempest of sorrow, were gone. All that was left was him. Alone, isolated, and numb to his own pain. Swallowed by a black void.Such was the life of an Empath.





	Maze of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone!
> 
> So, this is my first work for Stray Kids, and I am really excited to be writing again. I have so many ideas for where this story can go, things are gonna get interesting. XD
> 
> Now, I have to issue a warning here: if you are triggered by violence/abuse and/or suicidal thoughts this fic probably isn't for you. The story is going to get darker as the plot progresses and characters develop and open up more, so please be careful and stay safe.
> 
> With that being said, I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know what you think in the comments, I would really appreciate any feedback!
> 
> Thanks!

**Introductions and Questions**

 

_The voices were everywhere. All he could hear were heartbroken sobs, hostile shouts, and pained screams. It was like hell in his mind, and he hated it. Hated it with a burning passion. He knew it was a dream, but that didn’t make the voices he was hearing, the emotions he was feeling, any less real._

 

_A young girl putting on a brave face while her classmates bullied her for the chubby cheeks she couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard she tried, a teenaged boy being beaten into the floor by his drunk father, an old woman grieving the loss of her husband of over fifty years. Every sentiment he picked up on from the past week, all demanding to be heard one last time before they faded into the recesses of his mind, never to be felt by him again._

 

_By the end of his dream, he was emotionally destroyed. The swarm of voices, once a tumultuous tempest of sorrow, were gone. All that was left was him. Alone, isolated, and numb to his own pain. Swallowed by a black void._

 

_Such was the life of an Empath._

 

<}-----{>

 

When Chan woke up, his opened his eyes drearily, before closing them for five minutes of rest before his alarm clock rang. He had to wake up extra early that day since he promised to give a new transfer student from Korea a tour around his school’s campus before classes started. He was cursing his geniality now, but he knew he would say yes again if his dean asked him to. He understood the anxiety that came with attending a school in an entirely different country, so he would never forgive himself for not at least attempting to give a warm welcome to a transfer.

 

His alarm clock rang, and he smacked it harshly, execrating his abilities for never truly allowing him to get a good night’s sleep. He trudged to his closet to grab his school uniform and a clean undershirt and pair of boxer briefs, and dragged himself to the bathroom downstairs to take a shower. After standing under the spray of warm water for five minutes, he felt a little more awake, and went about the difficult task of trying to tame his curly hair.

 

 _At least mom left her hair dryer in the bathroom this morning,_ he thought, before plugging it in and getting to work.

 

<}-----{>

 

After getting increasingly more frustrated by his hair not settling into a nicer style, he decided to just leave his hair a curly mess and walk to school after grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter.

 

Fifteen minutes later, and he was sitting in one of the baby blue chairs in the front office of his high school, waiting patiently for the new transfer student to step out of Dean McAlister's office. He finished the last bite of his apple, laid his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes, too tired to deal with the bright fluorescent lights that hung from the office ceiling. He must have passed out, because he startled awake to someone shaking his shoulder gently.

 

“What?” he snapped out harshly, before realizing that this wasn’t his bedroom, and the hand on his shoulder wasn’t his little brother’s. He refocused his eyes away from the hand on his shoulder, and to the face leaning slightly over him.

 

“Dude, are you alright?” a pleasant voice asked, and Chan nearly lost his breath when he made eye contact with the stranger hovering above him.

 

His eyes looked tired, but at the same time, there was a mirth in them that made Chan want to know what was so funny. His hair was dyed blond, and parted in the middle in a way that showed his hair was much more cooperative than Chan’s would ever be. Bags under his eyes that would put a vampire’s to shame, and a sharp jaw and defined features that looked like they were sculpted by Michelangelo himself. This guy was beautiful, and Chan blushed at the fond look he was giving him.

 

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” Chan stammered, face flushed as the guy in front of him not-so-subtly checked him out. “Maybe? I dunno, am I dreaming?”

 

Chan mentally slapped himself as soon as those words came out of his mouth.

 

The guy raised one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows, and Chan shot out of his seat and held a hand out to him, trying to at least appear like a normal, not starstruck, human. “Ugh, forget I said anything. I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Bang Chan.”

 

The stranger smiled, grabbed his hand cautiously, and started to introduce himself. Chan felt a sharp jolt of electricity travel from the stranger’s hand, and spread to the rest of his body. The surge reached his head half a second later, and he passed out before he could hear a single word.

 

<}-----{>

 

_A young boy, crying as his mother left the world right in front of his eyes, a tumor in her frontal lobe. That same boy, holding on to his cats for dear life as his father tries to sell them for more whiskey money. A broken down house, mold growing on the ceiling of his bedroom. A punch to the face, the first in his life, and he runs. Moves in with his grandmother, smiles brightly as he plays with his cat Soonie. Car brakes squeal as his grandmother’s car is front-ended by a semi truck. Pain, so much pain. Legs, head, stomach. Hospitals and doctors, nurses and IV’s, blood and surgeries. Gets better, goes back to school, falls in love with his best friend who stayed by his side through everything, only for her to disappear without a trace. Heartbroken, wandering, comforting hugs from his uncle and aunt. Joy, for the first time in a while, at moving away from the country where all his pain originated. Studies English hard, becomes a natural after many long, tedious nights._

 

_Sadness._

 

_Fear._

 

_Disgust._

 

_Joy._

 

_Pain._

 

_Love._

 

_Frustration._

 

_Release._

 

_All of these float through Chan’s mind, attach themself to the core of his being, and permeate his subconscious. All of the memories tied to these emotions play like old film in back of his mind, and for a brief second, he wonders, why him?_

 

_And then everything fades. Except this time, he isn’t alone in the dark abyss. A crystalline version of his grandmother walks up to him, and speaks to him in the most soothing voice he has ever heard._

 

_“Lee Minho knows more about this world than you. Embrace his emotions, as they are the key to unlocking yours.” His grandmother puts a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Always remember that emotions and thoughts are intertwined, sometimes one and the same. Now go, may Elron guide you both safely on the path ahead.”_

 

<}-----{>

 

“Chan! Chan! What happened to him?”

 

“I don’t know sir, I started to shake his hand and tell him my name, and he just collapsed on me!”

 

Chan is gradually brought back to consciousness by the sound of voices hovering over him. His head is killing him, and his skin feels like it’s on fire, but for some odd reason he feels strangely disconnected from reality, detached from the pain the rest of his body is feeling. He attempted to open his eyes, but the bright lights overhead halted all of his further attempts to see who it was that was talking above him.

 

“Wait, sir, I think I saw his eyes flutter!” One of the voices says, and it sounds strangely familiar to him, but in his disjointed mental state, he couldn’t match that voice to anyone in his immediate friend group or family.

 

“Oh thank god! Chan, can you hear us?” That had to be his school’s dean, Chan didn’t know anyone else whose voice was that gravelly. Chan attempted to tell them he could hear them, but the only sound that came out of his mouth was a pained groan. “I’ll take that as a yes then. I’m going to grab a water bottle from the cooler in my office for him, do you mind watching him for a minute Mr. Lee?”

 

“Sure,” the other voice said, and Chan suddenly remembered all that had happened before he passed out. The beautiful stranger, Chan’s social ineptness, all leading to the shock that rushed through his body when he shook the guy’s hand. He really wished he hadn’t though, he would’ve liked to have forgotten their first meeting.

 

As the dean’s footsteps faded away, the guy, or Lee Minho as his grandmother had called him, poked his chest, and whispered. “Listen, I know you felt that shock too, right? Is that why you passed out?” Chan tried to say yes, but he just groaned again, brain too scrambled to force his tongue to make actual syllables come out. “Can you nod? You know what, just nod yes or no to any questions I ask before the dean comes back, okay?”

 

Chan nodded, and forced his eyes to open to see Minho’s face while he was making his inquiries.

 

“Did you feel the shock?” he asked, and Chan nodded slightly. “Do you think that the shock was the reason you passed out?” Chan nodded. He was sure of that, it had happened once before a couple of years ago, when he hugged his grandmother after not seeing her for nearly half his life. The shock had never been as strong as it was with Minho though.

 

“Do you have abilities?”

 

That one question both terrified and intrigued him. He didn’t get a chance to answer Minho because he could hear Dean McAlister’s footsteps emerging from his office, but Chan knew that their current conversation wasn’t over. If anything, it was probably only beginning.

 

The question was though, was Chan okay with that?

 

Only time would tell.


End file.
